


Eyes like Polaris (Eyes like a Kittens)

by SpiralsInTime



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Astronomy, Boys Kissing, Constellations, First Kiss, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Geralt knows shitall, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has Feelings, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Sex, Jaskier knows shit, Jaskier | Dandelion Has Feelings, Jaskier | Dandelion Has a Past, M/M, Neck Kissing, Romantic Fluff, Seven Liberal Arts, Soft Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Soft Jaskier | Dandelion, Stargazing, Stars, Surprise Kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-24
Updated: 2020-03-24
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:49:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23301919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpiralsInTime/pseuds/SpiralsInTime
Summary: This was inspired by the fact Jaskier was taught the Seven Liberal Arts, which includes Astronomy (something I have a great passion for!). I did my research on how Oxford Universities during the 1200s taught before writing this. Please keep in mind, all Latin translations were from Google and I do not speak Latin at all. Please correct my Latin if my translations are wrong because the last thing I want to do is offend someone, so gladly call me out! That being said, I hope you all enjoy reading this Geraskier scene. I appreciate any feedback you're willing to offer!
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 12
Kudos: 137





	Eyes like Polaris (Eyes like a Kittens)

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by the fact Jaskier was taught the Seven Liberal Arts, which includes Astronomy (something I have a great passion for!). I did my research on how Oxford Universities during the 1200s taught before writing this. Please keep in mind, all Latin translations were from Google and I do not speak Latin at all. Please correct my Latin if my translations are wrong because the last thing I want to do is offend someone, so gladly call me out! That being said, I hope you all enjoy reading this Geraskier scene. I appreciate any feedback you're willing to offer!

The crackling fire shimmered lowly behind them, their backs resting on the uneven meadow flooring. Jaskier had been surprisingly quiet, the Witcher noted, a build-up of worry ached in his chest as his senses held onto the slow, rhythmic heartbeat of the man beside him. The heat radiating off of Jaskier’s slimmer body, though a foot or two resting beside him, brought a warm feeling to his chest. The grass hugged tightly around their bodies almost as if they were longing for the heat, curling around their exposed arms. Keeping his eyes closed, Geralt felt a gaze on him in which he responded in a questioning hum.

“These are my favourite moments,” Jaskier’s voice whispered into the July air, speaking his thoughts as he usually does when he finds himself relaxed. At peace. He was looking at Geralt to his side, both of his arms resting behind his head, his left knee bent letting his foot gently lay atop of his right knee. Geralt’s position mirrored his own, other than the fact his legs were just stretched out, his ankles crossed. Jaskier paused for a moment, his eyes never leaving the Witcher’s closed eyelids as he ran his gaze over Geralt’s darkened features. The back of his white hair echoed the color of the burning flames a few feet behind them within the sheltered forest. 

Jaskier wondered for a moment if the Witcher’s heightened senses changed the outcome of the new moon’s sky. If the stars were brighter, perhaps far off planets showed off their color more under his vision. “Geralt,” he spoke up softly, waiting for a soft hum in reply before continuing, knowing he was still awake. “How do the stars look to you?”

Geralt opened his eyes, turning his head to face the boy. His eyebrows furrowed, creasing up his forehead, confused by the question. “What do you mean?” He mumbled in his usual rough voice. Jaskier sighed, turning his gaze back up to the nights’ sky, removing his right hand from behind his head to let it rest over his stomach. 

“The Witcher mutations affect your ability to see in darker environments, allowing you to dilate your eyes at will.” Geralt knew this wasn’t a question, but hummed in confirmation, letting the bard continue. “Would that change how the stars look, whether in brightness or possibly color?”

Geralt had to think for a moment for he was honestly taken aback by the question. Nobody ever asked a question like that about his mutations. Most people didn’t dare to ask any, but those who did, it was always the same: about how his emotions were taken away from him, leaving him and the other Witchers to be cold violent monsters. Geralt knew it would be a waste of energy to fight against the years of incorrect rumors and frankly, sometimes he was glad about them, for then people would leave him alone. Although, as the years continued to drag, he realized he didn’t want to be alone anymore, mostly after he ran into his bard at Posada. 

“I don’t know,”

“You don’t know?”

“Hmm,” They fell back into a comfortable silence, both within their own minds, thinking about totally different things. Geralt listened to their surroundings, always a little on edge in case an ambush would occur, but his focus kept trailing back to the soft breaths the bard exhaled beside him and the sound of his human heart, beating at such a fast pace compared to his own.

“Were you ever taught Astronomy? Or, perhaps, learned the subject yourself over the years?” 

Again, Geralt had to think about what he was asked, not used to the random questions that wouldn’t directly benefit the person inquiring about them. “No,” he spoke after a moment in thought before continuing, “I don’t know much. Why do you ask?”

Jaskier turned to him, his curiously limpid eyes wide with excitement, a triumphant lopsided smile blooming quickly over his joyous features. “We’re facing the North, so, the constellation, OH--” Jaskier shuffled his body closer to Geralt while raising his finger to point up at the stars before continuing, “There it is! See that bright star, almost having an orange-tint to it? That’s Kochab, it’s the brightest star within the constellation of Ursa Minor.”

Geralt’s skin screamed in desire at the sudden contact of the bard’s body against his own, the warmth spreading over his entire being in surprising pleasantness. His eyes followed Jaskier’s finger, trying to single-out this specific star out of the billions swimming in the darkness of the sky. “I think I see the star, Ko-something,”

Jaskier chuckled warm-heartedly, “Kochab,” he corrected softly. “Well, that’s the tip of Ursa Minor, the furthest point from there, the second brightest star in the constellation being Polaris, It’s light, a soft blue-tint.” He dragged his finger across the sky ever so slightly, pointing out the next star. “The full constellation sorta looks like a soup ladle; however, Ursa Minor in Latin means ‘the smaller bear.’”

“I’ve heard of Polaris, it being the North Star and all, helps with traveling,” Geralt spoke softly, almost like he was embarrassed at how little he knew. He glanced to see the bard still looking at the sky, a soft thoughtful smile playing at his lips. Geralt couldn’t help but inhale his scent. The all-too-familiar smell of sandalwood, rosin, a taste of mulled wine, and a hint of ink, that must’ve made its way into the bard’s fingers when writing his recent ballad, wafted around him. Geralt closed his eyes in habit, focusing only on how close Jaskier’s body was to his own. 

“You still awake?” a barely audible whisper breathed through the air. Jaskier looked at the relaxed Witcher who only ever looked that much in peace during his deepest sleep.

“Hmm, yes, got lost in thought.” Geralt mumbled with an unreadable smile softly on his lips.

“What were you thinking about?” 

His eyes met with the bard’s and he nearly let out a soft ‘ _ you _ ’ before shaking that off quickly, “If there’s a ‘smaller bear’ does that mean there’s another, larger one?” He asked swiftly going back to the previous conversation. 

Geralt felt Jaskier’s eyes on him but didn’t dare turn his gaze away from the sky, afraid he would say too much if he looked at the bard’s ironically innocent eyes. After quick moments of silence, Jaskier sighed. “Yes, Ursa Major, ‘The Great Bear.’” The bard’s finger touched at the night’s sky again, slowly outlining the constellation that was directly overhead “There’s a Roman Myth surrounding it,” Jaskier went on, waving his hand about as he talked. 

“A beautiful maiden,  _ Callisto Succubuerit _ ,” He slipped into an accent when pronouncing the name, but just as quickly slid back out of it as he continued the tale. “She often hunted in the forests, where one day after a hunt she laid down to rest. The God of Jupiter spotted her and was swept up in her true beauty.”

Geralt’s eyes never left Jaskier as they both laid in the summer’s grass. He was intoxicated by the bard’s strong, passionate and knowledgeable voice. As he went on with the story, he became more animated, waving his hand about, emphasizing certain words.

“It’s been said that Jupiter was so caught up in her looks that he laid with her, resulting in her pregnancy of the little boy they named Arcas. However,  _ Lunonem _ \- Juno, in Latin - Jupiter’s wife found out of the affair. Out of jealousy and rage, she turned Callisto into a bear to make her unattractive.” 

Jaskier turned his head to his right, meeting eyes with the Witcher beside him, who intently listened to the story. He proceeded with a charming smile, “As the years passed, her son Arcas became a  _ venandi _ , a hunter, just like she had been before the curse set upon her. One day, she spotted him out in the forests and ran to him, forgetting that she was stuck in the form of a bear. Arcas pulled back his arrow, shooting it swiftly at her, slicing through the air, but Jupiter blocked it, saving Callisto’s life. He thought the only way to keep them both safe was to turn the boy into a bear as well. Now, the mother and son live in the safety of the Heavens, untouched by Juno’s wrath, forever.”

All Geralt could do was stare into Jaskier’s eyes, taking in the joyous features of the figure softly pressed up beside him. “How do you know all of this?”

“I went to Oxenfurt, remember?” Chuckled out Jaskier in response, his hair falling over his face softly.

“But the Latin?”

The bard sighed in thought, turning to look back up to the constellations. “All teachings of the Seven Liberal Arts were done in Latin, so students had to converse. Gods have mercy, waking up at 5:00 am every day to listen to teachings you struggled to understand as you slowly taught yourself Latin was brutal.” He let out a laugh again, looking at Geralt with a wide smile.

“I’m surprised you didn’t just drink all the time, messing around with the women there,”

“Oh, I did drink and mess around, just not with the few women who were there,” Jaskier winked suggestively at him, a soft blush spreading over his cheeks. Geralt’s breath hitched ever so slightly. It never occurred to him that Jaskier would lay with men, he’s always only seen him flirt with the women at inns. Not that he paid too much attention to who the bard was flirting with, of course.

Without really thinking about it, Geralt pulled his hand out from under his head and gently moved Jaskier’s hair out of his eyes as he scanned his soft features. Jaskier’s penetrating blue, lustrous eyes blinked widely back at him, a prominent shy smile tugged at his thin lips which parted ever so slightly, almost like a plea to Geralt’s own lips. Before he realized what just happened, the Witcher’s body was hovering over his slim body, taken aback from the swiftness of Geralt’s movements.

Jaskier’s heart hammered against his chest, eager to press his lips against Geralt’s. He fought that desire, wanting the Witcher to further make the moves. The light from the fire was dying out behind him, but the soft remnants cast onto Geralt’s face lit his golden eyes like a match to flint, raising ablaze. His pupils dilated automatically, shrinking into slits like an animal’s.

Jaskier tried to muffle his laugh but failed greatly. The Witcher’s face twisted in question, his forehead creased as his confusion grew. “Y-you look like a kitten,” The bard chuckled out, his cheeks reddening as his eyes wrinkled with his laughter.

Geralt thanked the Gods that his body wasn’t able to blush, knowing full-well that statement from his bard would do it. “Oh, shut up,” he mumbled, biting his smile before he pressed his lips against Jaskier’s, his laughing subsiding, letting out a soft groan in response.

Putting most of his weight into his left hand on the ground against Jaskier’s side, being careful to not hurt him, he leaned his body closer, their chests and groins touching, causing Jaskier to moan in pleasure. Geralt smirked against his hot lips before he trailed down to the bard’s neck, leaving loving kisses in his path. He bit down right below his ear, flicking his tongue out against the bruising kiss. 

“Fuck,” Jaskier moaned, his hips bucked upward, yearning for friction as he tugged on Geralt’s white hair, causing Geralt to groan roughly in response. “The Gods only know how long I’ve wanted this,” his breath warmed Geralt’s shoulder.

Pulling out of Jaskier’s neck, his face hovered over the bard’s, looking into his wonder-filled blue eyes. “Did you know your eyes look like Polaris?” Geralt mumbled, passionately kissing his lips again as if it were his only lifeline. Jaskier smiled widely into it, breaking it off, before softly speaking against the other’s lips, “So you were listening,” Geralt breathed him in, the smell of sandalwood and ink came first but underneath rested the strong sweet smell of happiness and lust. He growled softly in a possessive manner, kissing his bard’s jawline before a gentle hand cupped the side of his face, making him look at the younger man’s face again.

“And your eyes, Kochab,” He stated softly, referring back to one of the stars. Jaskier’s loving smile turned into a growing smirk, his warm hand still resting on the Witcher’s cheekbone. “Though, mostly like a kitten's,” His tongue poked out of his lips with his now-full smile. Geralt rolled his eyes and pulled Jaskier in roughly, trying ever so hard to not let out a purr in pleasure.

**Author's Note:**

> Make sure to follow me on Twitter at SpiralsInTime for shorter Twitter thread scenes and just general talk about The Witcher 🥰


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